


Flynn Lives...

by LinneaKou



Category: Tron (1982), Tron - All Media Types, Tron 2.0, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Brothers not in blood but in bond, Gen, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinneaKou/pseuds/LinneaKou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Flynn isn't immune to dark moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flynn Lives...

**Author's Note:**

> I'd say I was sorry, but I'm not.
> 
> FLYNN LIVES! Here, have some Flynn Feels.
> 
> [Minor warnings for underage drinking, which I do not advise or support. Also, swearing. Sorry.]

**1999**

Jet plucks the keys from the ignition and yanks off his helmet, biting his lip. His dad doesn't know he'd gone yet, but Alan knows him well enough to not worry.

In any case, the old Dumont shipping yard overlooking the Pacific is the last place anyone would look for Sam. Except for Jet. If he squints - he forgot to bring his glasses, of course - he can see the flicker of a candle or a dying flashlight.

Flynn Senior's old Ducati is parked in the cast shadow of the shed, and Jet wheels his less-flashy motorbike to stand next to it. He checks around once again, but the old shipping yard is deserted at this time of night.

Groping in the near-darkness for the doorknob he knows is there, Jet listens for any telltale sounds of something gone wrong. He hears tapping - just tapping. Finally, his fingers bump into the handle. He carefully eases the door open and quietly calls out, "Sam?"

There's a moment of perfect silence, then he hears a husky "Over here."

"Jesus, man, it's dark." Jet shuts the door behind him and hears Sam laugh roughly.

"Sorry." There's a click, and then Sam's electic lantern appears out of the darkness, illuminating the young Flynn's face.

Jet looks the other boy over and his eyes catch on a suspicious glassy object on the ground next to the lantern. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Thinking. Typing. Hacking. Stuff." Sam looks away, and Jet catches sight of a portable generator hooked up to one of ENCOM's newest laptops. It's probably one of the appeasement gifts the board sent in an effort to keep Sam disinterested in running the company. Jet's dad had grumbled something dark the first time the board had done it, but he was being outvoted more than usual these days.

"What're you hacking?" Jet asks, carefully shuffling over to join him next to the lantern. He stops when Sam shifts to block the object at his side. "And how the hell did you manage to get a hold of that?"

Sam shrugged, and Jet realizes he can smell the cheap whiskey even from a few feet away. "Dude, how drunk are you?" he demands.

"Not really. I've had this bottle for a while." Sam raises his eyebrows in a way that reminds Jet so much of Kevin Flynn, it hurts.

"You know..." Jet swallows, wondering how to put what he wants to say as kindly as possible. "Mom and Dad are worried about you. It being... the anniversary and all."

Sam doesn't answer, instead taking another swig of his whiskey straight from the bottle.

"Dude, do you not even have a glass?" Jet doesn't know whether or not to be worried that he's not surprised or angry that Sam is drinking, and clearly has done it before.

"No point." Sam offers him the bottle, but Jet waves it away. Sam shrugs again.

Jet bites his lip, then settles into a more comfortable sitting position. "You okay?"

"Hell no, I'm not okay." Sam's voice is dry, in that self-deprecating tone that Jet's learned means he's having a manly emotional moment. Jet has never been good at ignoring that tone or what it signified - usually that Sam didn't want to talk about it.

"Sam... it's been ten years and... I'm sorry."

Sam lets out a long, harsh sigh. "Wellminster is trying to get me kicked out again."

Well, of course. This fight has to have been the fifteenth one of the semester. "What did they say this time?"

"That my dad was a money-grabbing loser that couldn't program his way out of a wet paper bag." Sam takes another sip of the whiskey, and Jet makes a face at the jab at his godfather.

"You know that's all bullshit, right? Your dad was a fucking genius."

"Mm-hm." Sam glares at the laptop, and Jet shifts so he can see it. It's displaying a graphic of some sort. It takes him a moment to be able to read it.

"'Flynn Lives'?" Jet reads, his eyebrows up. "Did you do this?"

"Nope. I'm just trying to see how the guy did it."

Jet vaguely remembers that kerfluffle of the previous year. "What guy?"

"The hacker. Matthew Roth. Pretty simple, really. But sometimes simplicity is its own reward." Sam pulls up the command prompt and starts typing again.

Jet sighs and sits back. "And why do you want to see how he did it?"

Sam smirks. "Well, considering the Flynn Lives Organization has been pretty quiet lately, I figured ten years was long enough. I'm going to start leaving my own little 'Easter eggs' for ENCOM."

"And again I ask why?" Jet isn't usually this willing to play the grown-up, but what Sam wants to do could land him in juvie. "Dude, you're the biggest shareholder that the company answers to. Just wait until you're old enough to take back the company. Dad would totally support you."

Sam snorts. "Yeah, but the rest of the board won't be so willing." He starts to pick up the whiskey bottle again, but Jet snatches it away from him.

"Sam, seriously. You could get into _so much trouble_ , and that would screw up everything."

Sam finally glares at him. "I don't care."

"You should. You could do so much if you played your cards right." Jet doesn't know where his maturity moment is coming from, but if he can keep Sam from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life, he'll ride it out. "Look, I say you finish up your sentence at Wellminster with a flourish. Do a decent job. Go to CalTech. Get a legit programming degree. Take over the company. Make a difference. It's what your dad would want."

Sam doesn't answer.

Jet presses on. "All I'm saying is, don't screw up your life right now. You're only seventeen. You can't even vote yet."

Sam snorts again. "Jet, you sound like your dad. Stop it."

"Well, he's not here to say what you need to hear, and I'm pretty willing to bet you wouldn't listen to him if he were." Speaking of Alan, they should probably head back soon.

They sit there for a while, bathed in the glow of the dying lantern and the flickering laptop. Finally, Sam shuts the laptop and unplugs it from the generator. He starts putting his stuff back in the hiding places, making sure to grab for the whiskey bottle.

Jet gives him a death glare, then crosses the shed over to the garage door that doesn't work anymore. He grabs the handle and, with no little difficulty, manages to open the old door up enough to step out onto the built-in dock. Sam follows him, frowning.

Jet doesn't say a word, just takes his Frisbee-throwing stance and, before Sam can protest, lobs the whiskey bottle into the Pacific.

"Dude, do you know how annoying you can be?" Sam demands, but he's fighting the urge to grin.

Jet smirks. "Think of me as your morality buddy." He claps Sam on the shoulder. "Man, you need a new outlet for your frustration."

"Y'know, I've been thinking of taking up capoeira. It looks cool." Jet nods approvingly, and Sam laughs a real laugh. "Oh goody, I've got big brother's approval."

"Hey, I only nag because I care." Jet and Sam retrieve the laptop and the lantern, along with Sam's messenger bag. While Sam packs up his stuff, Jet hauls the garage door shut.

Ten minutes later, they're racing down the California freeway, and Jet can imagine, just for a minute, that they're on lightcycles. It's a thought he hasn't had in years. He recalls his dad and Sam's dad in the old arcade, trying to beat each other's high scores; Kevin always called Alan "Tron".

He wonders if it will ever be that simple again.

 

**2010**

He's backstage at the ENCOM press conference when the Flynn Lives movement manages to surge past security and take the stage. He thinks he sees an amused quirk on his father's lips, and his mother rolls her eyes in fond exasperation. The spokesperson for the FLO manages to be pretty compelling, despite the fact that he's clearly breathless and reading from a cue card, and the other members of his party are all cheering and whooping, and it's obvious that there are a ton more of them in the audience. Banners and t-shirts he hasn't seen for a decade are out again, and he can tell that the security guys are going to have whopping headaches come morning. Not to mention the chairman of the board was probably going to rip them a new one.

Then, a helicopter. Alan yells something in surprise. It's a black helicopter with red line decals. It's Flynn's old helicopter.

Jet wonders how Sam managed to wrangle that.

It's no surprise when the parachute opens, the "89" logo displayed proudly.

Jet smirks to himself. Maybe this isn't exactly what he'd hoped Sam would get up to, but it's better than that dark night eleven years ago. He makes a mental note to go bug Sam at the shipping yard later, maybe share a beer or two.

In the meantime, his dad advises him to be "properly outraged" at the audacity of the company's biggest shareholder. As a lowly member of the R&D department, his input doesn't mean jack. But Alan's smirking and Lora is giggling behind her hand, and for once Sam's family is properly proud of the trouble he's managed to cause.

_FLYNN LIVES._

**Author's Note:**

> Muchas muchas gracias to the Tron Wiki for helping me keep my timeline straight. I say this again, JET AND SAM WOULD BE SUCH BROS. Hey, Disney, put Jet into the next movie. Please?


End file.
